Cafe Hitch-hike



Last night I armored up and got hit by sticks.

Lord, have mercy. Canadian Jane at my pub.lib job is a member of the Society of Creative Anchronisms. I went to one of their events last week to watch them practice weapons fighting. Out of boredom, since I didn't know what the hell anyone was talking about, since I couldn't remember medieval, Nordic names, and since I had the energy to burn, someone loaned me their weapon. I whacked away on a pole covered with tires known as a pell. Some of the folks liked the way I handled the weapon. Some guy called Sarnac showed me some basics, and I was invited to come back next week.

I returned. I waited and waited for Sarnac because he was going to put me in an armor suit and further my training in weapons. (Sarnac, I had to laugh. It resembles the name of a hamlet near my hometown. I used to call the town "Similac" in jest).

The gathering began at 7:00, and I was about to leave after an hour. Right when I turned to leave, there was Sarnac. Half an hour later, he found a woman fighter who was done fighting and was willing to loan me her armor.

Getting suited is a labor-intensive task. Movement is restricted because legs don't have mobility, and the waist also has limited movement. The damn armor completely removed any indication of physical feminine features. Last but not least was the "helm", or the helmet.

"Of all the armor, your helm is the best protector," they said.

Sarnac disappeared after I was suited, so I was passed onto a guy named Lothar to train me.

Hmm? What can I say? I know how to block my left quite well, as that was the hand holding a shield, but my arm got so tired. I carried my weapon in my right hand. Lothar instructed me how to hit. I whacked some guy named Kray upside his head a few times, and then the first time he got me, the helm made a tinny sound and vibrated on my skull! It didn't hurt, but it felt so weird.

I fought very briefly in 3 matches. Of course, I didn't get my novice butt completely stomped in the ground, but I got a few mortal blows and that was sayonara for me.

I got really tired. I held my breath each time I tried to use my weapon. My arms really hurt from the shield and weapon. My head doesn't hurt, but I can still feel the spots where I got hit. My skull has the memory of where I got whacked.

Christ, I can barely lift my arms today. My legs are a little stiff. Do I want to do it again? I don't know. At first, it was scary but something wanted to go back and do it again though my body protested. I don't know. I'm sure there's other things to do with SCA, if I'd care to really be a part of it. Not everybody's a fighter. Why don't I be a scribe? I know how to juggle, so maybe I could do that? Well, this is all knew to me. I'll see what else is there.

downwind | upstream